2 Timothy 4:7

"I have fought the good fight. I have completed the race. I have kept the faith."

This particular verse kept coming to my mind this morning as I awoke, bright and early, donned my running gear, and went out to run my first 10k of the summer. But this verse, for as much as it pertained to my run this morning, was more on my mind for a dear friend who is in the middle of a major life crisis, her own race of sorts. Through it all, I have been blown away and so encouraged by her faith and her ability to lean on God and know that He is faithful to his word. As I ran this morning, she never left my thoughts or my prayers. Her struggles revolve around her unborn baby, and as a mother myself, I can't begin to imagine how scary this is for her. Please read her story here and keep her and her beautiful baby in your prayers.

My prayers for her must've done something for me, because today I ran the best race of my life! But I guess that's not hard to do, considering it's the third race I've ever participated in, but still, I finished my 10k race in a much better time than I was expecting: 51:53 to be exact.

I always assumed that I ran 9:40 minute miles, based on where I set my speed on my treadmill, but it's hard to gauge my speed when I'm running outside. I'm no mathematician, but the gentlemen at the 1-mile marker who was tracking our time kindly told me yelled out that I had finished my first mile in 8:14. I was flabbergasted! I was a bit winded compared to my normal runs, but I still felt great, so I was determined to keep this pace as long as my 5'2" frame allowed! At the 5-mile marker, the sweet, and totally ripped, lady on the bicycle gave me the same numbers. My legs were aching, but with 1.25 miles to go, I wasn't about to give up.

I was running alone, with no one cheering me on (I'm not having a pity party, just stating the facts), so by the last 1 mile stretch I was sorta wishing I had a partner to motivate me. Lo and behold, my wish was granted. This girl, who I'd been pacing for a while, was also running alone, and we sorta just "bonded" in our last mile. We only said about 20 words to each other, because frankly, it's hard to speak in full sentences after running for so long, but we really kept each other going. It was in the last 100 yards or so that she really pushed me, saying "C'mon! We can DO this!" and we both picked it up several notches and crossed the finish line together. I never did catch her name...only her number: 142. Thank you, 142, for your support and encouragement!

I fought the good fight. I ran the good race. And I kept the faith.

My biggest fans were waiting for me (half naked or in mismatched jammies) when I pulled in the driveway this morning: